Underneath the Red Flag
by Ismeme Daughter of Athena
Summary: AU When the blood wards are changed and Harry is sent to live with a KGB officer and his wife in Moscow, the entire fate of the Wizarding World changes. Watch and see as lifelong friendships are formed and the obligatory danger is encountered by a young Communist Harry Potter-how will our own world be affected? R


Underneath the Red Flag

By Ismeme Daughter of Athena

Chapter 1

**(Please read the insanely long author's note. It's very important.)**

**AN: Wow, I can't believe that it's been a full two years since I last posted a chapter on this site—though I've been a more than active reader. In the past year, I have become fascinated with all things Russian—history, language, culture, politics, everything, in every era—and, being the Harry Potter fan that I am, came up with this idea. A few notes, I believe, are needed to quell any potential disquiet before we start our tale. I do not pretend to be an expert in Russian history, and I know only a few words in the Russian language, though I can read the alphabet. As such, should you find any inaccuracies, please point them out to me kindly in a review, preferably with a reliable source or two. Should it be a big enough error or unimportant to the plot, I will edit the chapter with the correct info. Otherwise, I will keep it as poetic license with a note in one of the chapters. Also, in this story, Harry is being raised by a loyal KGB agent, growing up as a Young Pioneer, excited to join Komsomol and eventually the Communist Party. He does not see the horrors of Soviet society, just as we do not always see the horrors of our own societies. His opinions, and the opinions of other characters in this fic, do not reflect the opinions of myself, the author, nor anyone that I know. I hope that I do not offend anyone with this work—it is nothing more or less than a character study and a theory on how the books would have changed with this large change in Harry's upbringing. Hope that settles that. As always, flames are discouraged and constructive criticism of all types (plot, character, grammar, spelling, any other concerns) is welcomed. One final note before the disclaimer and the story can begin: like many Fanfiction authors, I am little more than a nerd. I do not pretend to comprehend sports (unless you count pètanque, but that's a different story) , nor do I have any interest to do so. I have never taken martial arts, have never handled a weapon more dangerous than a kitchen knife, and have no knowledge of poisons. Thus, unless I am incredibly lucky with research, my descriptions of Harry's life as a mini-KGB agent will not be true to life in any way, shape or form. With that ridiculously long, but nonetheless important, author's note out of the way, the story may commence!**

**Disclaimer: I have never been , nor never will be, equal to the greatness that is JK Rowling. She owns all that can fit in her castle in Scotland, and I do not pretend to live in anything grander than my parents' run-of-the-mill home. Hope you enjoy, and if not, then don't read!**

It was an ordinary Tuesday evening to most of the world. Everyone even remotely connected with the Wizarding World, however, knew differently. It was the first full day in many years that the witches and wizards of the world, especially Great Britain, were able to smile and laugh, assured in the knowledge that You-Know-Who was gone for good. Celebrations lasted for hours into the night as people forgot all about the real boy who had saved them at an expense that he would never be able to regain. A powerful man named Albus Dumbledore ignored his desire to provide the 15-month old orphan with a loving home and a good childhood in favor of his need to keep the boy alive.

However, you know that already—why else would you be here? This story is not what would have happened had history been allowed to take its natural course. Instead, it is the story of how one man changed the entire path of a world by his sheer existence—and, should we get to it, how his actions would have changed our own world.

This man's name was Vektor Ivanovitch Barinov. Under different circumstances, he might have been nothing more or less than a fiercely loyal party member from Moscow (even his name meant 'Great communism triumphs' as if his life's work had been determined from birth). However, he happened to be one of the Soviet Union's KGB agents who worked with the Wizarding World.

On that fateful Tuesday, Vektor had been assigned research on blood wards—how to create them, how to break them, how to transfer them, how to change them, anything that he could find. Much to his luck, he had detected that a blood ward had been created just the day before, providing him with the perfect opportunity to not only study it but also potentially take control of it for the glory of Lenin's legacy.

Quickly, he told his boss where he was going and why before saluting and declaring, "To the worldwide glory of Communism," as they always did before setting off on potentially dangerous missions.

He soon appeared on a rather boring, bourgeois neighborhood in England. Thinking quickly, he realized that this must have been connected with the mysterious disappearance of the Dark Lord Voldemort the day before—adding to his already tremendous stroke of luck. If he was able to figure out what had happened, he could duplicate it, leading to further discoveries. Many people might not have believed it, since the war had kept Capitalist Britain divided, but the magical Soviet Union, from East Germany in the west to Siberia in the east, held great hatred for the pretentious, evil, pureblood maniacs that the Death Eaters and their leader were.

Being very careful to hide in the shadows as he had been taught, Vektor overheard Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore discuss what had happened between 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' and 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' the night before—valuable information under any circumstance, but even more so now. Debating on what to do with this newfound information, the spy stood in shock as McGonagall angrily revealed that the chance of young Harry Potter growing up in a loving home was very slim. He approved of the woman, despite clear differences in opinion, but he could not understand how the greatest warlock of Wizarding Britain could be so blind as to assume that perfect safety was preferable to a good childhood.

At that moment, Vektor knew what he had to do. Though he now had a prestigious job serving his country, he had grown up stricken with poverty among the industrial classes. He knew that, while he may not have had time to play with toys and laugh and play like the privileged children of enemy countries could, he would not have given it up for the world. He had everything that mattered: food, clothing, shelter, water, and a cause to believe in. He would give young Harry the same.

More than that, he knew that his wife, Katya, would be surprised but thrilled. They had been married for the past 15 years, but they had been unable to bear the child that they would have raised to be proud of what it had and willing to fight so that everyone would have the same. This would provide them with that chance.

Knowing that the disgustingly corpulent bourgeois magic-hating family that lived at Number 4 Privet Drive would hardly refuse him tonight, the tough KGB officer kicked open the door, letting it crash onto its hinges as he picked up the basket holding poor baby Harry. The adults in the house, Petunia and Vernon, woke with a start, though the rest of the street, including babies Dudley and Harry, slept on.

After much angry discussion, the Dursleys decided that inadvertently helping the Soviets was better than being stuck with one of those _freaks_ for eleven years. Relieved, Vektor cast the spell that would, magically, if not legally, actually, or biologically, make him a member of the Evans family before disowning himself and the deceased Lily to prevent unwanted intrusions on the part of the Dursleys, Barinovs, or anyone who might somehow find out. The blood wards would no longer work with the Dursley family, but they would protect the Barinov family. Vowing to never step foot in the boring suburban neighborhood of Privet Drive again, the Communist popped back to Moscow with baby Harry in tow.


End file.
